All in the Timing
by yaaaaaaayme
Summary: They may be sworn enemies, but when magic beyond their control sends Harry and Draco back into the time of knights, royalty, and the great sorcerer, Merlin, it may just be their differences that save them. Not slash, no pairings. spoilers: season 1, HBP
1. A Frolic through the Woods

Well, while my laptop is fried and I have no access to my other stories, I thought I'd try my hand at a crossover story for Merlin and Harry Potter to occupy the time until I get it fixed. This was just something I thought up during calculus. Because, really, which would you rather think about, math or Merlin?

**Disclaimer: **I own nothing. Not even a computer, now.

**Summary: **What started as a simple follow-Draco-to-the-woods idea has gotten Harry and said Slytherin boy into way more trouble than they'd have ever thought. Even with all the trouble they get into every year at Hogwarts, this simply didn't compare. Due to a botched spell by a young Merlin (yes, even great wizards can mess up with magic) the two have found themselves back in the time of knights, royalty, and the one that they know as the greatest wizard who ever lived. But something sinister is approaching Camelot and, though they fight constantly, that may just be enough to save Harry and Draco, as well as all of Camelot. However, now Merlin has a dilemma: how to send these two boys home! If only he could figure out how he brought them there in the first place…

There won't be any pairings in this, but there _will_ be an eventual friendship between Harry and Draco. Though, I suppose if you turn your head and squint, you can look at it as the beginning of a relationship. The nature of that relationship is up to you.

Oh, and this takes place at what would be the beginning of the sixth book. If you don't remember what happens or don't know, don't worry, I'm only going to talk about it a little, as the story starts pretty quickly into the sixth year.

Oh, and Merlin spoilers only for the first season, because I know the American audience hasn't seen the second season (it's available online, though, if you poke around a bit!)

* * *

**Chapter One: A Frolic Through the Woods**

"I'm telling you, he's up to something," Harry insisted, pacing back and forth before the fireplace. It was late, and the flames had died down to embers, casting a soft orange glow over the three inhabitants of the room.

"We've been watching him for weeks now," Hermione sighed, slumping slightly on the soft red couch, "And we haven't seen him do anything wrong."

"Yeah, but if I could just follow him―"

"Harry, mate," Ron cut him off tiredly, "Last time you did that, all it got you was a nice body bind and a kick in the face."

Harry scowled at the memory of Malfoy leaving him on the train like that to rot. And if Luna hadn't found him… "I told you what I heard him say before that, though! He wants to work for―"

"Harry," said Hermione, "He's been saying things like that as long as we've known him. Wanting to work for V-Voldemort and actually working for him are two different things." She sighed. "As much as I hate to admit it, I don't think Draco is as evil as you want him to be."

Harry stopped in his pacing and whirled to face her. "What's that supposed to mean?" he growled. She looked away, not wanting to answer. "Fine," he said finally, "You two can stay here, but I'm still going to find out what Draco is up to. We don't all fit under the Invisibility Cloak, anyway." With that, he grabbed said cloak, gathered up his wand and the Marauder's Map, disappeared from view, and headed out the portrait hole, ignoring his friends' protest all the while.

* * *

Draco couldn't sleep― not with all this pressure weighing down upon him. And if he didn't get up to clear his mind, the force of the explosion would surely wake the rest of his house, if not the entire school. With this thought in mind, he rose from his bed and dressed quickly, draping a thick cloak over his robe-covered shoulders and leaving the dorm room without a sound.

The common room had exhausted all of its head-clearing power already, and so he opted for a different location. Honestly, sneaking out of the castle was far too easy, anyway…

Just as he was approaching the great hall, keeping a lookout for Filch or Mrs. Norris or that old hag, McGonagall, he thought he heard a rustling behind him. But when he turned to look, there was nothing there but a gently snoring portrait of an old man holding an ugly little dog. Chalking it up to paranoia or the magical idiocy that played through the halls of Hogwarts, he continued on his way, quietly slipping out the front doors and moving towards the moonlit forest across the grounds.

* * *

Harry breathed the tiniest sigh of relief he could manage after Draco had nearly caught him. He waited a few moments as he put the map away, and then near-silently followed Draco outside onto the school grounds.

He was surprised to see his Slytherin nemesis heading towards the Forbidden Forest; he'd been such a coward when they'd gone there during their first year at Hogwarts. Then again, that had been quite some time ago…. Nevertheless, it solidified the suspicion in Harry's mind that Draco really was up to something. And he intended to find out what.

* * *

Draco sat in the clearing― _his_ clearing, as he'd been the one to find it and there were never any other creatures there to disturb him― and tried to clear the thoughts from his mind. His father was practically nonexistent now, and his mother needed someone she could be proud of. He wanted to be that someone. But when his father had volunteered him for a job such as this, he thought he could handle it, though the thought scared him. Now… he wasn't so sure.

He ran a hair through his perfect pale blond hair and sat down on a stump in the clearing, wrapping his cloak more tightly around him to keep out the growing cold that came with nights in early October. The clearing sat atop the side of a craggy hill with a fairly steep incline. From his vantage point, Draco could look out over the rest of the Forbidden Forest, which splayed out below him dramatically. He watched the trees as they rustled and swayed, their branches silver in the moonlight, and sighed.

* * *

Harry had almost lost sight of Draco several times as he made his way down a path in the forest, the entrance of which was hidden, but the reality of which was actually rather clear. But now he had found the Slytherin boy where he'd stopped. The Boy Who Lived watched silently from the shadows and waited.

…and waited…

After a while, it became clear that Draco wasn't actually going to do anything more than look out over the forest, finger-comb his hair, and sigh loudly and dramatically every so often. But, stubbornly, Harry wasn't going to admit that Hermione had been right about his arch rival and so he watched for a bit longer.

When Draco began to stand, looking like he was finally going to do something, Harry leaned forward in anticipation, inadvertently snapping a dry twig as he did so. Draco's head shot up at the noise and he looked around frantically, fear evident in his eyes. He began to move towards the source of the noise, where Harry was hidden in the brush, with his wand outstretched. Harry decided that staying as still and quiet as possible was the best plan of action, thanking Merlin that Draco was too much of a coward to actually poke his way through the bushes.

The trees, however, had something else in mind. Being the wholly unpredictable, enchanted trees that they were, the moonlit boughs began to glow with a light of their own― panicking the Malfoy heir to no end― and a sudden, unseen force shoved Harry into the clearing, pulling the Invisibility Cloak off of him as he fell.

"Oh," Draco sneered, no longer afraid, "It's just _you_."

Ignoring him for a moment, Harry looked around in confusion. He then got to his feet and retrieved his cloak from where it hung innocently on a branch.

"Hoping to be petrified again, Potter?" Draco spat, but his wand was no longer held in a threatening position. Still bewildered, Harry shook his head.

"Something just pushed me out," he said once he had regained the ability to speak.

"Oh, come off it, Potter," Draco's face wrinkled in disgust, "I'm not a first year anymore. Merlin, Potter, you think tricks like that are really going to scare me?"

"Oh, yeah, Malfoy," Harry shot back sarcastically, once again finding banter-mode, "I just waited all night for you to go to the forest so I could jump out and yell 'boo!'." Draco only sneered in response, so Harry continued, his voice more solemn. "I'm serious," he said, looking into the treeline, "Something pushed― ugh!" The same force sent him backwards into a surprised Draco.

"Get off, you Gryffin― dah!" Whatever insult he'd been about to say was shoved aside by the same force pushing both of them back this time. Draco's eyes were wide now, and he held his wand out towards the seemingly unoffending trees.

Those trees began to glow again, a sight that would have been pretty had it not been so terrifying, and one more invisible, great shove sent them backwards again, tumbling down the rocky hill into the darkness.

* * *

Chapters of this will be short, but I'm going to post them very quickly. I don't quite know exactly how long it will be… *shrugs*

Ok, please tell me what you think in a review! I need to know if I should continue this.


	2. Fashion Lessons

I suppose I'm going to update this story once a week while I can. It's interesting, this is the first of my stories where the hits from the UK are higher than those from the US (even if only slightly). Probably because this is a crossover of two British series.... * shrugs*

* * *

**Chapter Two: Fashion Lessons**

Merlin looked around him in confusion, blinking sleep from his eyes in the early morning light, and yet there was still no sign of anyone in the woods. Perhaps he had worded the spell wrong? He'd felt an insistent tug pulling upon him, leading him out of bed and to this spot, and assumed it was the druids calling for him. But when he'd spoken the words to the spell that would summon them, nothing had happened. So he'd tried it three more times. Still, nothing. There wasn't much of anything in the clearing, really, except for a large stone covered in various shades of moss, but he doubted that was what had been calling him.

He waited a bit longer and, still, there was no sign of anyone revealing themselves. He shrugged and turned back towards Camelot, where his daily duties awaited him (plus Arthur had wanted to go hunting today, which was never a fun time for Merlin). As he walked off in the direction of castle turrets and billowing red flags, he didn't hear the two distinct thuds impacting the layers of dry leaves, nor seen the bodies of the two boys who had suddenly fallen out of the sky.

* * *

Harry squeezed his eyes shut tighter in an attempt to block out the sun. It was Saturday, for Merlin's sake! And, annoyance of all annoyances, he'd accidentally left the curtains around his bed open again, allowing the sun to take that as an open invitation to wake him up in a very rude manner. Without opening his eyes, he reached blindly to close the curtains. His fingers, however, only groped air.

Come to think of it… his bed seemed quite a bit more uncomfortable than he was used to. And… was that a rock jabbing into his back? At the sudden realization, he shot bolt upright, his eyes trying to take in all of the alien sights around him. There were trees― not so out of the ordinary, sure. But these trees were tall and straight and their golden and orange leaves dappled the sunlight that played over the forest floor. These were certainly not the trees found deep in the Forbidden Forest. Remembering what had happened, he checked to make sure he still had everything; yes, his wand, cloak, and the Marauder's Map were all still safely with him. And, there on the ground just a few feet away, beside a large rock with odd multicolored moss, lay Draco Malfoy, looking for all the world as innocent as a young child as he lay in slumber. Harry snorted and rolled his eyes.

He got up, shaking off the stiffness of sleeping on the ground outside, and approached his school time foe, nudging him with the tip of his shoe.

"Malfoy," he called, trying to rouse him. The other boy's only response was to groan a bit. "Draco!" he said louder. Still, the sleeping teen just scrunched his face up in unconscious annoyance. He gave a slightly harder nudge. "Hey, Ferretface!"

Draco sat up groggily. "What?" he growled, scowling at Harry.

"Good to see you'll respond to something," the Gryffindor remarked. "You should get up so we can find out where we are. I think we spent the night unconscious in the Forbidden Forest, after―"

"After you pushed me down that hill?" Draco sneered, standing slowly.

"I didn't _push_ you, the trees―"

"Sure, Potter, blame it on the trees."

"Well I wouldn't have been out there in the first place if you hadn't been up to―" He stopped talking suddenly at the sound of hoof beats getting closer. Could it be the centaurs, coming to find them? No, the sound wasn't quite right… He moved in the direction of the sound with Draco following close behind.

Soon, they came to a spot where the ground cut away; a few feet below, there was a dirt road.

"How is there…?" Harry began, only to have Draco answer his statement with his own confused words.

"There aren't any roads in the Forbidden Forest," he said, his voice sounding concerned for once. Hoping to find answers, the two clambered down the incline and emerged on the dirt road. The sound of hoof beats was getting closer, but they were slow and non-urgent.

Soon, a cart pulled by one single horse and driven by a man in clothing that looked right out of the Middle Ages (even to two wizards dressed in robes and cloaks and accustomed to writing with quills on parchment). He slowed the cart to a stop as he approached the two teens and looked at them oddly. Draco decided to speak up.

"Excuse me," he said, sounding oddly polite to Harry's ears, though still keeping a tone of arrogance about him, "My… companion here and I are rather lost. Is there a town or village nearby?"

The man kept looking at them strangely through a scraggly mess of facial hair on his unwashed face. "Aye," he said with an accent that reminded Harry strongly of Hagrid. "We're bu' a wee distan' ou' fra' the ci'y o' Camelot." It took a moment for the two to translate what he'd said― that they weren't far from Camelot― and when they did so, they looked at each other in surprise.

"Did you say… Camelot?" Harry asked, wondering if he'd heard the man wrong through the thick accent.

"Aye," the man said again, "Tha's where aem 'eadin'. Ae go' some grain ta bring fra' the ou'lyin' villages."

"Ah," said Draco, barely grasping what he was saying, "I see…"

"Well," the man said, taking up the reins again, "If tha's all yeh'll be needin', ae bes' be off." With that, his horse began its slow clopping again. The two shocked wizards stood in their places for a while, waiting until the cart was out of sight before speaking again. Even then, it was hard to process rational thoughts.

"You know," said Harry, gazing down the road to where the cart had disappeared, "I don't think we're in Hogwarts anymore, Draco."

* * *

You'd think the greatest of all the king's knights, the man destined to be king himself, would be able to dress himself in the morning; or, at least, that was how Merlin saw it. But, no, Prince Arthur seemed to require the assistance of his manservant for even the simple task of putting on his shirt. The young sorcerer suppressed a sigh and reached over to hand the prince his belt.

Now if only he could rid himself of that irritating tugging feeling, as if his magic was getting impatient and wanted to go outside to play.

* * *

"Ok, so we've transfigured everything that might give us away, right?" Harry asked, looking at how the casual clothing beneath their robes and their modern shoes had been transformed into what suited the time that they had apparently been tossed into. Everything else, like the map, had been shrunken and stored in their pockets. The Invisibility Cloak refused to respond to any shrinking charms, so Harry had tucked it in an internal pocket of his new cloak (transfigured from his robes) in an inconspicuous way.

"Everything but your glasses," Draco said, one eyebrow quirking up.

"What's wrong with my glasses?" Harry asked offendedly, his hand shooting up to the wire frames.

"They're outdated, like your hairstyle," the Malfoy boy shot back. "Though, in this case, they're too futuristic. Do glasses even exist yet, here?"

"I… I think they do," Harry said. But he wasn't sure. "Ugh, this is all such a mess. If you hadn't―"

"Oh, don't you start that again! We're not going to get anywhere this way. Right now, we have to do something about those glasses."

"Well, I can't see without them."

"You're utterly useless, you know that? Here." His wand was suddenly pointing at the bridge of Harry's nose, making the dark-haired boy's eyes cross in surprise. A moment later, with the whisper of a spell, he felt the glasses shift and change so that they only clipped onto his nose. Draco shrugged. "It'll do. Now come on, let's see if this really is the Camelot of the legends."

Harry nodded, and they two set off in the direction that the man with the cart had gone. It wasn't long before the tall stone walls and high towers of a castle that _wasn't_ Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry came into view. This, with its red banners and regal air, was the city of Camelot.

* * *

Same as last time; expect short chapters, but fast updates. Oh, and if you can't understand what the cart driver is saying, try saying it out loud. Go ahead, try it. I dare you.

Review please, I survive on feedback! Seriously, I need to know what people are thinking or it seems like people don't care if I update the story or not.


	3. Least Ancient and Noble

Thanks, everyone, your reviews are wonderful!

* * *

**Chapter Three: Least Ancient and Noble**

Camelot was amazing― enough so that the two boys had wandered around the city for several hours. And yet, at the same time, there seemed to be something missing from the spirit surrounding it.

"Do you feel…?" Harry asked, letting the question hang.

"Yeah," replied Draco, understanding. Then a thought occurred to him. "Though I bet it has something to do with all these muggles." Before Harry could comment, he continued, "Anyway, we know for sure that this is Camelot, considering the guards said so, as well. But how do we know exactly what year it is?"

"It's not like we could just ask someone…" Harry agreed, nodding.

"That settles it, then," Draco said with a tone of finality. "We'll just have to get an audience with the king."

"What? Why?"

"Well, if it's Arthur, then we'll know about what year it is."

"And maybe even find Merlin," Harry realized, his voice filled with awe. Even having grown up in a muggle household, Harry knew that meeting one of the greatest sorcerers of all time would be absolutely amazing. "I bet he'll be able to get us home."

"Wow, Potter, maybe you _aren't_ a complete idiot, after all."

"Oh, ha-ha," Harry replied without humor. "But what do we do if Arthur isn't king yet?"

The pureblood boy shrugged. "We hope for the best."

* * *

"Presenting Draco, Son of the Esteemed House of Black," the court announcer called into the throne room. Keeping his head high, the indicated teen strode across the carpet covering the stone floor, heading towards where the king sat upon his throne, hand gently supporting his chin.

"I can't believe your family tree actually goes back this far," Harry whispered, one step behind him.

"What did you think all of that 'Most Ancient and Noble' stuff was?" Draco whispered back, "A load of―"

"Greetings, Draco Black," the king called to him as they approached, unknowingly cutting him off. "What brings you to Camelot?"

"Knowledge, sire," Draco replied, faking the older language quite well, "We are wandering the world to see a bit of it."

"We?"

"My manservant and I," Draco rephrased with a slight smile, gesturing to Harry beside him. The dark-haired wizard had to bite his tongue as he nodded to keep from protesting and blowing their cover.

"Yes, of course," the king agreed. "Naturally, you are welcome here. Cepheus and I were good friends in the time of the Great War."

"Thank you, sire." Draco bowed his upper body slightly, and Harry followed suit a second later. They then caught the sound of the doors opening again behind them again and turned to see who it was. Another teen, perhaps a few years older than the two wizards, strode in and passed them, sparing only a slight glance. He had a boy who seemed to be manservant as well just a few steps behind him; the boy then veered off to stand by an older man on one side of the room.

"Ah, Arthur," the king said, standing to greet the newcomer. Harry and Draco exchanged looks at the name. "I trust the hunt went well, then?"

"Quite," the tall blonde replied. "Only a few hours' time, and yet we shall be having venison for dinner." He turned, finally actually looking at the two wizard boys, one eyebrow raised.

"Draco, of the House of Black," Draco introduced himself with another slight bow.

"And does this nobleman have proof, this time?" Arthur asked no one in particular.

"My lord?" Draco asked in confusion.

"We've had a number of… imitations, lately," the prince explained. "Do we have solid proof that you are who you say you are?"

"Oh, of course." Draco reached into the collar of his shirt and withdrew an ornate necklace with the Black family crest hanging on the end. He removed the chain from around his neck and handed it to the prince. "Will this do?"

"Do you always carry that with you?" Harry whispered bemusedly as Arthur inspected the pendant.

"It's called family pride, Potter."

"No, it's _called_ being a prat."

"I suppose this is fine," Arthur said, handing the necklace back to Draco, who once again hid it within his shirt (and ignored Harry's comment for the moment), "We can't be too careful nowadays."

"Too true," his father agreed. "Especially with so many _sorcerers_ attempting to make their way in." The way he'd said 'sorcerers' made Harry and Draco exchange a quick glance again. "But, come, you must be weary from your travels. Join us for tonight's feast…"

* * *

Harry's stomach was rumbling miserably. He hadn't eaten since dinner the previous night, and yet he was still forced to stand by and watch as the king and all his courtiers― now including Draco among their numbers― partook in eating the deer meat from Arthur's hunt earlier that day. Trying to ignore his hunger, Harry looked around at the other servants in the room. The one beside him, the same as the one that had entered behind the prince, looked back at him, wearing the same expression on his face as Harry knew hung on his. Harry sighed quietly.

A moment later, the dining room doors opened and a dark-haired girl about the same age as Arthur entered.

"Sorry I'm late," the girl apologized, taking the empty seat across from Arthur. "Gwen wasn't feeling too well, earlier, so I thought I'd check on her quickly before I came and I lost track of the time."

"That's quite alright," the king dismissed it. "We've just begun eating," he said truthfully (much to Harry's chagrin, as it meant it would be a while until he himself would be able to eat)

"And how is Guinevere?" asked Arthur, trying― and failing, in Harry's opinion― to sound casual. Harry and Draco looked significantly at each other again at the mention of Arthur's future wife.

"As I said, she wasn't feeling to well," the girl replied, a hint of amusement in her voice, "But she'll be okay." Arthur nodded, looking a bit uncomfortable. Harry leaned over to speak to Arthur's servant.

"Is Guinevere another courtier?" he asked.

"No," replied the slightly older teen with a small laugh, "She's the Lady Morgana's maid." He gestured towards the girl who had just entered and was now quietly exchanging witty banter with Prince Arthur. Harry nodded and then leaned over to Draco, who was seated beside the future king.

"Do you think she has any connection to Morgan le Fay, the evil sorceress?"

"At this point, Potter, anything could happen," Draco whispered back. "For all we know, you could be Sir Lancelot."

Still keeping up appearances (Merlin damn it all), Harry refrained from sticking his tongue out at his "master" in a very childish manner and stood up straight again. For a while, the only sound in the room was that of silverware clinking and the lute being played softly in one corner.

"I must say," the king remarked into the quiet as he swallowed a bite of the meat, "This was quite the catch, Arthur."

"Indeed," his son replied after taking a sip of his wine, "Though we would have had a second stag to bring back, had it not been for Merlin tripping over that twig and scaring it away." He rolled his eyes and lifted his goblet again. Both Draco's and Harry's eyes went wide at the mention of the great sorcerer.

"I said I was sorry," the servant beside Harry whispered to the prince, who was pretending to ignore him. Upon hearing this, Draco choked on the sip of wine that he'd been taking from his own goblet, prompting looks from the surrounding diners. Harry crouched down beside him, under the guise of checking if he was okay.

"Well," he said, his voice sounding as choked as Draco currently was, "Maybe you should just start calling me Lancelot."

* * *

*Does the magical review dance* (like a rain dance, but for reviews)


	4. Transparent

Thanks so much for your support, I'm glad people seem to like this story.

* * *

**Chapter Four: Transparent**

Naturally, King Uther would provide only the best for the noble guests staying in the castle. Due to this, Draco had been given a rather comfortable suite in which to spend the nights. In fact, the room was a few steps above what he was accustomed to at Hogwarts― considering he didn't have to share it with four other guys― and nearly up to the level that he was used to in his own home.

The king's hospitality, however, did not quite extend to servants. Thus, Harry had been told that he would be rooming in the servant's chambers in the back part of the castle. And it wasn't as if he could argue, either.

As they left the dining room, Harry glared at his Slytherin rival disdainfully. Draco merely looked smug.

"You just _had_ to say I was your manservant," the Gryffindor boy growled.

Draco tossed his hair. "You're hardly the noble type," he replied, his nose in the air. He then veered off to follow the servant who would be showing him to his room, leaving Harry alone in the corridor. He stood there for a few moments, trying to figure out what he was going to do.

He didn't particularly want to follow Malfoy; he'd had enough of that annoyance for one day. He could always follow the other servants back to their quarters, where he'd be spending the night, but that wasn't exactly an appealing choice either. And, most importantly, he was absolutely starving. When― and what and where― exactly did servants eat anyway? He looked around, hoping to see someone he could ask. Most people had already left, though, and there was only one person he recognized.

That person just so happened to be Merlin. Harry wasn't even entirely sure that this was the same Merlin who was destined to be the great sorcerer that all wizards new of. Maybe it was a common name― and a merlin was some kind of bird, right? Harry realized he was thinking too much and that Merlin the servant boy who may or may not have been Merlin the Sorcerer was already quite a ways down the hall. The bespectacled wizard all but ran to catch up with him.

"Hey," he said catching his breath. "Merlin, was it?" he baited for information.

"Um, yeah," Merlin replied, slowing his long stride and only confirming Harry's thoughts on his name but answering none of the other questions that hung in the wizard's mind. Merlin's brow wrinkled slightly. "And you're… I'm not sure I caught your name."

"Ah," Harry realized this was true, "I'm Harry." Merlin smiled in acknowledgement. "So um… well, I haven't eaten in a while. I was wondering… you know…"

"Well, most of the servants have already eaten." At the way Harry's hopeful face fell, he added, "But Arthur keeps me later, so I haven't yet. Actually, I'm going to go eat now. Come with me, I'm sure Gaius won't mind another person."

Thoroughly confused as to who Gaius was and still wondering if this Merlin was _the_ Merlin, Harry nodded, and then followed along side the other boy as he walked through the halls of the stone castle, trying to match the older boy's long strides.

* * *

Draco looked around the room, nodding to dismiss the lowly and unwashed boy that had shown him to it. Yes, this would do quite nicely; if it weren't for being surrounded by muggles all the time, he could really grow to like this place.

He then smirked, wondering if Potter was having a good time down with the rest of the underlings.

* * *

"Ah, thank you so much," Harry breathed in relief, taking the offered seat at the small table in the physician's quarters. The room looked remarkably like Snape's potion stores, but with a slightly smaller amount of creepy things floating in jars. Pushing such an unappetizing thought aside, he began to eat the bowl of soup that he'd been offered. It was no gourmet masterpiece by any means, but at this point, anything short of something creepy suspended in a jar could serve as food to him.

"It's not a problem," assured the physician (who happened to be the same old man he'd seen earlier in the throne room).

"Are you sure?" asked Harry, "Not that I'm not grateful, but it feels like we― Draco and I― are kind of taking too much advantage of the king's hospitality."

Gaius― Harry now remembered this to be the physician's name― raised one white eyebrow in what looked like suspicion. Avoiding his probing gaze, Harry looked to his bowl again. Merlin didn't seem to notice.

"Camelot is prospering; there is plenty of food and, of course, space," said the angular-faced teen. Harry sighed.

"If space isn't an issue, maybe the servant's chambers won't be so bad…" he mumbled.

"You aren't staying with your master?" Gaius asked, still giving Harry that same look.

"Ugh," Harry snorted, "I've had enough of him for quite a while." In the few seconds of silence that followed, Harry realized why it was that the old man was looking at him in such a way. First he'd called Draco by such a familiar name, and then he'd spoken badly about him (but it's not like he could think of any kind words for the irritating Malfoy). "Um," he tried to correct, looking between the questioning faces of his two eating companions, "I mean―"

Then Merlin laughed. "Yeah," he agreed, "I feel the same way about Arthur. Royal prat that he is…"

"Merlin," Gaius' voice warned.

"Well," said Harry, relieved to be off the hook, "Draco isn't royalty, but he sure acts like it." The two boys laughed and Gaius merely rolled his eyes, knowing there wasn't much he could do to change the situation. After a few moments of bemused quiet, Harry spoke again. "So what's it like, living here in Camelot?"

"It's great for the most part," Merlin enthused. "How long are you staying?"

"Uh… I'm not sure exactly," Harry said honestly. _This_ Merlin didn't seem like someone who would be able to send them home to their own time. Harry frowned into his soup.

"Well, I'm sure you'll like it while you're here," the oblivious sorcerer reassured him. "I mean, you got a great first impression of the place. I didn't exactly have that luxury, and I like it all the same."

Gaius fixed a stern gaze towards an abashed-looking Merlin now, leading Harry to believe the other boy had said something that he shouldn't have.

"Why?" the young wizard asked, his brows wrinkling together, "What happened when you first came here?"

Gaius stepped in to answer instead. "Uther," he began, "Is not fond of magic―"

"Well, that's the understatement of the century," Merlin added in an undertone.

"―And, on the day that Merlin arrived," the physician plowed on, ignoring his assistant, "A man was executed for practicing sorcery."

"It was a pretty gruesome thing to be the first thing I saw," Merlin finished, summing it up.

"All magic is forbidden in Camelot," Gaius stated. Harry nodded, thinking.

"Yeah, I seemed to get that impression earlier…" Harry mentioned. "But," he tried to cover, "Something like that won't affect me." Damn Gaius and his suspicious looks…

The soup― or, perhaps, the awkwardness― had warmed him, and so Harry stood to remove the cloak that he and Draco had transfigured from his school robes. He walked the few steps it took to reach a hook on the wall to hang it, but as he did so, the Invisibility Cloak came tumbling out. That wasn't a problem for the moment― when not wrapped around a person, the cloak appeared to be an exceptionally silky, water-like fabric. However, it took Harry a few seconds to snap out of the paralyzing panic he'd felt when it had first fallen, and by the time he had begun to bend down to pick it up, Merlin was already there, beating him to it.

"Here, let me help you with… that…" His voice trailed off and his eyes grew wide at the way his hands disappeared when covered in the flowing fabric and reappeared when he pulled them out. He took a few steps back in amazement as he carried the cloak, coming to a stop near Gaius, who looked at the effect in amazement as well.

Harry watched in horror, having just heard what happens to anyone who practices magic or possesses a magical object in Camelot. The panic was back ten-fold.

"Um," he floundered, "I can explain that…" And he really, really wished that were true.

* * *

Ah, a cliffhanger… at least from Harry's perspective.

Please review!


	5. A Coming Blackness

**Chapter Five: A Coming Blackness**

Everything was going wonderfully. Camelot was beautiful, the king had bought Draco's story, and they had a roof over their heads for seemingly however long it would take to get them home. They'd even― possibly― found Merlin already. Unfortunately, there was the minor detail of Harry having made one of the worst mistakes he could have possibly made in front of a citizen of the city of Camelot. He'd been caught in association with magic.

Well, it was a magical item to be more specific, but apparently even possessing an object with some kind of charm placed on it was an offence punishable by death. Great. He hadn't even been there for one entire day, and already someone wanted to kill him.

Harry watched in frozen horror as Merlin and Gaius poured over the Invisibility Cloak. They seemed to have even forgotten that he was there for the moment, but his feet were ignoring the commands from his head, which told them to get the hell out of there, and so he was still standing there when they turned around, finally remembering that he existed.

"Where did you get this?" Gaius demanded. He then went to the doorway to make sure no one was nearby. "You must know that keeping magical objects is forbidden in Camelot," he added as he returned, much more quietly and urgently.

"Yeah, um," Harry grasped for something― anything― that he cold say to diffuse the situation. "It's… uh…" Coming up with nothing, he sighed, and decided to tell the truth. "Fine," he said quietly. "Yeah, I'm a wizard." He waited for their reactions, wondering if he was going to have to do some creative memory charms to fix the situation. But before it came to that, perhaps they wouldn't react by running to the king and having him beheaded.

And, amazingly, they didn't. They just looked a bit surprised.

"Are you here to harm the king?" Gaius asked, "Or Arthur?" Despite the fact that it was a very silly question (after all, who in their right mind would say yes?), Harry shook his head enthusiastically.

"No," he denied, "Draco and I are here by accident actually. Oh, um, which reminds me…You're Merlin, right?" Said boy nodded, looking confused. "Are you really… I mean, do you― are you _the _Merlin?" The addressed sorcerer simply looked even more confused.

"Well, I'm the only Merlin I know of…" he tried to answer, not really understanding the question.

"Well, then you must be the same person as Merlin the sorcerer," Harry prompted, "Right?"

Merlin recoiled in shock. Just who was this boy, anyway, and how did he know so much? Then again, he had already revealed himself to be a sorcerer, and had that amazing fabric with him. So, if he ever went to the king with Merlin's secret, it would be his word against Merlin and Gaius's. He'd hope seniority would help their case here… But, his mind was wandering. Overall, if this Harry boy really was a sorcerer and seemed to already know Merlin's secret, what was the harm in admitting it?

"Yeah," Merlin said finally, "I have magic. A lot of it." Harry smiled and heaved a great sigh of relief.

"Oh, thank Merlin…" he sighed quietly with his eyes closed, confusing the boy whose name he was using in vain. His bright green eyes snapped open again, though, and he seemed to remember where he was. "Ah, ahem, right. That's really good news. Then hopefully you can help Draco and me get home," he suggested, indeed sounding quite hopeful.

"Home?" Merlin asked, sharing a confused and concerned look with Gaius, "What do you mean?"

"Well…" Harry hedged, "We aren't exactly from around here…"

"Perhaps," Gaius suggested, taking a chair at the table again to sit down on, "You should explain it to us from the beginning."

* * *

"You called for me, father?" Arthur asked, returning to the dining room, where his father had remained since eating.

"I did," Uther confirmed, sounding thoughtful. "Please, take a seat."

* * *

"The future?" Merlin asked after a moment of stunned silence had elapsed. Harry nodded.

"About a thousand years… Er, probably more." Harry really needed to learn to pay better attention in History of Magic class.

Merlin and Gaius looked at him disbelievingly. "You expect us to believe that?" Merlin laughed. Harry sighed.

"I know, I know, it sounds crazy," Harry consented, "I mean, I don't think the shock of it has even set in yet. I'm in _Camelot _for Merlin's sake!" For a moment, he even forgot who he was talking to. Merlin and Gaius both looked at him in surprise.

"For… my sake?" Merlin asked, perplexed.

"What? Oh!" Harry realized what he'd said. "No, no… I mean, your name; we kind of use it in conversation like that. It's the equivalent of how the muggles― I explained about them, right?" They nodded; he'd explained it quickly. "Yeah, well, it's the same thing when they say 'oh my god' as kind of an exclamation."

"So," Merlin tried to clarify, "To this wizarding world in the future that you spoke of, I'm some kind of god?"

"Well… kind of," Harry explained. "You're regarded as probably one of the greatest wizards of all time." There was awe in his voice as he finished that statement, as it hit him once again just who he was speaking to. Merlin turned to glance at Gaius, looking a bit smug.

"Oh, dear," Gaius commented, "I can see his head inflating already…" Merlin sighed and looked back at Harry.

"I don't understand, though," he said, "If all of this is true, about the wizarding world and that school, Toadboils―"

"Hogwarts," Harry corrected.

"…right, Hogwarts, and everything, then why are you here?"

"I have _no_ idea," Harry said exasperatedly, "I followed Draco to the forest outside the school― he seemed like he was up to something― and something kept pushing us and there was this weird light in the trees, and the next thing I knew, we were waking up in the woods outside of Camelot."

"You didn't recite any kind of spell?" Gaius asked. Harry felt like he was under interrogation; and then he realized that he was.

"No, nothing. I mean, Draco was _about_ to hex me for being there, but neither of us did any magic."

A thought occurred to Merlin. "Wait…" he said. "Where exactly was it that you woke up?"

"I fail to see how this is relevant, Merlin," Gaius stated.

"It may be," Merlin responded, looking to Harry for his answer.

"Well, in a clearing… it wasn't too far away from the road that leads into Camelot."

"Was there anything there that was unusual?"

"Not in a magical sense, no… nothing but a big rock covered in different colors of moss."

"Uh oh…" At his sound of regret, both Harry and Gaius looked to Merlin for answers. "I think," he explained, "That I might have been the one to bring you here."

"What?" Harry asked, as Gaius asked, "How?"

"Well…"

* * *

"So you're saying you believe I was right to be suspicious?" Arthur asked. His father still looked quite concerned over the matter.

"Well, I'm not saying that we should be suspicious that everyone who comes to Camelot is not who they say they are," Uther replied, "But let's face it; over the past few months, we've had a few too many imposters." Namely, Lancelot (the phony nobleman), Edwin (the so-called healer), and, more recently, Lady Catrina (whom Uther had forbidden anyone in Camelot to speak of ever again).

"Indeed," Arthur agreed, "Do you believe the boy's crest is a valid test, though?"

"Well." Uther shared a rare smile. "In this case it won't matter." He held up a piece of paper, which had been folded in front of him on the table for the entire conversation. "I've just received a letter from my old friend, Cepheus Black. He's coming to visit in just a few days."

* * *

Why, yes, that _is_ a very bad thing. Draco and Harry may just be in quite a lot of trouble…

Oh, and a word on the Lady Catrina; I know I said spoilers for only the first season and she's from the second, but I won't say anything more about her or what happened when she was there. If you've seen that far, you know, *laughs* you know.

Review, please!


	6. Desperate Times

Sorry it's a day later than usual, I went to go see _Wicked_ with my family yesterday (it was amazing) and didn't get back until very late. But it's here, now! Enjoy!

* * *

**Chapter Six: Desperate Times**

"But how could you possibly be responsible?" Gaius asked, looking at his assistant in confusion.

"Well, it makes sense," Merlin explained. "I woke up really early this morning because my magic was pulling me, telling me to―"

"Wait," Harry stopped him. "Your magic was what?"

"Pulling me," Merlin repeated, "And telling me to go to this one spot in the woods― the same spot you described, near to the road with a large moss-covered stone."

"But what does this have to do with you being the reason for me and Draco being here?"

"I'm getting to that… I thought it was the Druids calling to me. They've done that before, and this felt nearly the same. But when I got there, there was no one there, so I used a spell to try to summon them."

"That could have been dangerous, Merlin," Gaius berated him. "What spell did you use exactly?"

"Uh… it was _ic ceallian seo manes hwa me agan beurfan_," the sorcerer replied; the old words sent a shiver down Harry's spine upon hearing them. Gaius, however, raised one brow.

"And you're certain these were the exact words you used?" the old man asked.

"I'm almost positive," Merlin assured him.

"What does it mean?" Harry asked, "It doesn't sound like any words we use for magic."

"It's―" Merlin began, only for Gaius to cut him off.

"'I call to the ones who have need of me'," the physician intoned. "This may explain something…"

"But how could that have brought us through time?" Harry asked, looking just as perplexed as Merlin was.

"Well, apparently at the moment of time from which you were taken, you and Draco had a true need of Merlin. And his magic was strong enough to make that happen."

"I guess I didn't really phrase that the best way…" Merlin mumbled.

"You made that up on the spot?" Gaius asked him.

"Well, it was _really _early in the morning…"

Gaius rubbed his forehead, looking like he had a headache. "Regardless, now that we know what brought Harry and Draco here, we've got to figure out a way to get them home. It could take a while."

Harry brow wrinkled together. "_Why _does magic always have to be _so_ complicated?" he sighed.

* * *

"What do you _mean_ no magic?" Draco hissed dangerously, his voice filled with acid as only a Slytherin's could be.

"I mean exactly that," Harry replied, "No magic here. At all. You heard the way Uther spoke of sorcerers, right?"

"Yes," Draco sniffed, "I figured he was just jealous because he's a muggle. But to have banned it entirely?"

"That's what Merlin and Gaius said. Uther hates magic."

"Great. Next you'll be telling me that Merlin doesn't know how to get us home!"

"Well, that was kind of the other thing I had to tell you…"

Draco stared at Harry disbelievingly, before flopping back onto the large, luxurious bed he'd been given. Harry had come to his room, led by a servant, to tell him this horrible news. Perhaps, if he ignored the medieval smell, he could tolerate being in Camelot. But now he was learning that he was going to have to live without magic? Like a muggle!

"Uther beheads any found guilty of practicing magic," Harry explained.

"You're the one who was found out so quickly…"

"Yes, but I was lucky that it was just Merlin and Gaius."

"What about Merlin?" Draco asked, tilting his head up to look at the annoying Gryffindor in his presence. "How is it that he's still around if the king hates magic so much?"

"Uther doesn't know."

There was a pause, in which Draco appeared to be thinking.

"So no magic?" he asked.

"No magic."

"None at all?"

"None."

"Are you sure―?"

"Draco!"

Draco stopped talking, glaring at the Potter boy― but not pouting, that'd be ridiculous. No magic. None at all. Absolutely nothing to distinguish him from the common muggles around him. How would he survive? He let his head flop back on the pillowed surface.

"I'm dead…" he moaned, with just the right amount of melodrama.

* * *

Harry thanked Merlin for Gaius― in the worship, take-His-name-in-vain sense, not in the sense of physically thanking the person he'd just met. Though, in retrospect, he supposed he should just thank Gaius and eliminate the middleman. And so he did so profusely.

The old physician had decided that it would be better if Harry spent his nights with him and Merlin, rather than in the servants' quarters. Merlin didn't mind sharing, though his room was very small. He was more than eager to stay up listening to Harry tell him what the future of magic would be like. So Harry slept on a pile of hay covered in several blankets. It wasn't terribly comfortable, but Harry supposed he could live with it. If only to prove Draco and his must-by-comfortable-at-all-times-or-I'll-die attitude wrong.

* * *

Bright and early the next morning, Merlin finished mucking out Arthur's stables (for the fourth time that week) and joined the prince at his training area, helping him into his mail when he got there.

"I wonder," he thought aloud, slashing at a wooden dummy, "Do you suppose that Draco fellow wishes to be a knight?" He pretended to parry a blow from the dummy's inanimate wooden sword, then ran around the back of it for another slash.

"He didn't really seem like the type," Merlin said neutrally. What he meant was, 'he'd never pick up a sword in a thousand years', but he didn't say this.

Arthur laughed a bit. "I suppose you're right," he conceded, spinning to hit the dummy in what would be the neck, had it still been vaguely man-shaped (the edges were fairly shredded from the repeated abuse Arthur rained upon it). It was quiet for a while, with only the sound of Arthur's 'fight' to fill the air. "Do you think we can trust this Draco and his manservant?" he asked suddenly.

"Well, I don't see any reason not to," Merlin replied, getting a bit nervous.

"Yes, well," continued Arthur, "I suppose it's a good thing, then, that Cepheus Black is coming for a visit. Just to be sure."

"O-oh?" Merlin knew what that could mean if the man said that he didn't recognize Draco or Harry. "Yes, I suppose that is good…"

The first chance he got― when Arthur tired of beating up the dummy and sent Merlin to fetch his horse― Merlin broke off at a run to tell the two visiting wizards what Arthur had told him about Cepheus Black. He needed to warn them, and fast.

* * *

Merlin breathed out a sigh of relief when he saw that the two boys had made it in time to intercept the head of the Black family as he rode into the courtyard of the castle, followed by several attendants. But Arthur was waiting for him to return to his chambers to help him dress for the reception of the old friend of the king. Honestly, how many times would he have to wonder if Arthur were really capable of dressing himself before it became a reality?

Cepheus Black was a bit surprised to see an unfamiliar blond teenager stride up to him with a sense of self importance. This wasn't Uther's son, Arthur; he was sure of it. Even more so when the boy addressed him.

"Welcome, Grandfather," the pale boy said. "I suppose you're surprised to see me here." Cepheus watched him with stone-cold eyes for a few seconds, studying. Then he decided to play along for the moment; the boy seemed to be of noble blood.

"Indeed," he replied, his face and voice both void of expression― until he raised one eyebrow. "Though it seems to be a matter for a less… open venue?"

The blond nodded, and Cepheus waved at his attendants to take care of his horses. He then walked along with the pale boy and the dark-haired boy who tagged along beside him to an area around the corner that was out of the way of prying eyes and tuned-in ears.

"You have thirty seconds to tell me what you want," Cepheus declared.

"I need you to pretend to be my grandfather," Draco explained quickly to the old man. "I know that sounds odd, or like I'm trying to extort money or power from you or something, but that isn't why. You may not know me, but I _am_ your relative." The stern old man watched as he withdrew the necklace with the Black family crest hanging from it. Harry noted that Cepheus had one as well― perhaps the same one, if that were possible― resting on his chest. "I am your great grandson, many, many degrees down through the generations."

"Time travel?" the man asked, his voice having a smugly amused tinge, as if he'd entertained the idea. Draco nodded.

"It sounds crazy, I know. You'll be happy to hear we're still pure of blood, though. Only magical blood runs through my veins." Cepheus looked rather proud, but it just made Harry vaguely sick to hear Draco talk that way. "But I'm sure you want our family to continue past just me. Being beheaded for lying to King Uther really would put a damper on that notion." Cepheus seemed to be considering it.

"All right," he finally agreed, "I'll tell Uther you are my grandson." Before Draco and Harry could even take a breath of relief, Cepheus continued. "However, there is one thing you must do for me…"

* * *

Review, or I shall stand outside your window and serenade you. And I can't sing.


	7. Ill Will

Next week's chapter may be a tad late, but for now, here's this chapter. Enjoy~!

* * *

**Chapter Seven: Ill Will**

"Why, Uther," Cepheus Black practically gushed (had that sort of thing not been unbecoming of a man of his stature), "How wonderful it is to see you again after all these years."

"Likewise," the king replied, easily taking the bait. "It has been quite a while. And yet, what a strange coincidence," he added, "That your grandson should show up here so soon before you yourself visit."

"I must confess, I am caught off-guard as well," said Cepheus. For a moment, Harry was prepared to panic, thinking that, perhaps, the man was going to blow their cover after all. But he continued, "To see my grandson here is a pleasant surprise, however."

Uther smiled. "Oh, and which of your grandchildren is he, may I ask?"

"Well, you do know I have so many," Cepheus oozed. "He is my third daughter's fifth son," he mock-explained, "One of the youngest of the brood I might add." If Harry hadn't known any better, he might have described the patriarch's tone as affectionate. Draco gave a false smile when the king turned to look at him.

Uther and Cepheus continued their greetings for a while as the other occupants of the throne room stood by to watch. Harry eyed the head of the Black family suspiciously. He was a tall man, proud-shouldered, with a sweeping nose that any artist would love to paint in profile. Harry couldn't tell if his long hair, held back by a ribbon, had always been such a white color as it was now, or if it had once been another color and changed to the color of moonlit snow. Cepheus's eyes were the same cold grey of Draco's own, and he had a smile that could only be described as poisonous, which he directed at Uther in an almost friendly way that belied his true devious nature. In short, he was a Slytherin.

And Slytherins, as any who had ever met one knew, were _always_ planning ways to get themselves on top.

* * *

"I've upheld my end of our little deal. I should hope you'll be upholding yours."

It was a pleasantly worded threat, but not to be taken lightly when it came from Cepheus Black. Harry took note of the way his voice had dropped all pretenses of having emotion and become what he knew from those such as Snape and Malfoy Senior.

"Of course," Draco replied easily in this same tone. "We'll tell you all you need to know about the future of magic and, naturally, that of the Black family line." They were in the old man's current chambers and Draco held out a hand to indicate a chair by a desk in the room as he prepared to launch into what would surely be a very long explanation. "But you may want to sit down for this."

* * *

Cepheus black was smiling again, and that alone would probably be enough to make a small child cry. Harry was not a small child, and therefore he was not physically crying. But he sure did feel like he should be. Draco, however, didn't notice the way his ancestor's venomous smile seemed close to melting the stone wall behind them as he gazed at it, a look of pondering coming over his features. He was planning something, and Harry shuddered to think what it could be.

"Quite amazing," he commented, "That the world of magic has risen so far."

"It's still a secret from the muggles," Harry broke in, hoping to discourage him from having the wrong idea. Both Cepheus and Draco sneered.

"Regardless," the old man brushed him off, turning his attention back to Draco, "It is apparent from your presence that the Black family is still one of the most prominent of all the purebloods." An odd look drifted over Draco's features, but he pushed it aside.

"Of course," he lied. Harry had noted that, while Draco had been explaining the future of the history of the Black line, the Malfoy boy had conveniently left out many details that Harry knew, and, the Gryffindor was certain, many more details that he didn't know for sure. But Cepheus wouldn't know the difference.

Draco continued to explain all kinds of things that Cepheus asked about― that had been the deal after all. In exchange for his telling Uther that Draco was his grandson, Cepheus would be told anything he wanted to know about the future of magic and his family. And he wanted to know a lot. Curiosity was one thing but this… well, this seemed like more than just curiosity. Harry just couldn't be sure what the man wanted to do with this information.

* * *

A few days passed, and the castle and its inhabitants once again settled into a normal routine, bringing the current guests along for the ride. In the absence of his magic, Draco took quite nicely to ordering Harry around like he really was a servant, both when they were around other people and on the rare occasions that they were alone. Harry usually obeyed when it was for appearances' sake, but told Draco to sod off when it wasn't. Cepheus made very few appearances, choosing instead to remain in the large room that had been provided for him for the majority of the day.

Arthur continued his usual routine of training with his knights nearly every morning (not that he had ever stopped for a break). Thus, when the light was still new and the air fresh with dewdrops, the sound of steel on steel could be heard echoing over the awakening city.

Several hours later, Arthur and his men were still at it. Merlin yawned as he handed the prince a rag to wipe his sweating brow. It didn't seem like he'd be stopping any time soon.

"Wake up, Merlin," Arthur drawled, "Honestly…" The sorcerer nodded, as if agreeing to obey, and continued to fight against his lids falling closed. Once, just once, he'd like to sleep in…

He rubbed his eyes when he saw two unexpected figures approaching the training area. Draco was leading Harry as they came, looking, even from far away, like he was barking orders or simply ranting at the dark-haired boy. Said boy was obviously not listening. Arthur spotted them by following his manservant's glazed-over gaze.

"Hm, perhaps that Draco kid really does want to become a knight of Camelot," he commented in a bemused tone. When the two were close enough, Arthur called out to them, "Come to try your hand at some swordplay?"

A look of disgust flitted over Draco's features as he glanced at the blade in the prince's hand. Harry could clearly see what he was thinking; _muggle weapons, how primitive… _

"No, I prefer to be… behind the scenes," Draco replied as they stopped in front of the group of knights. "We're just here to learn. You understand the importance of strategic knowledge, of course." _Spoken like a real Slytherin,_ thought Harry. Before the two of them could commence with their veiledly-pleasant smirking contest, a servant that Harry had seen a few times around the castle ran up to the group of young men.

"Sire!" he cried, coming to a stop before Arthur and giving a short bow, "Your presence is needed immediately!"

"Why?" asked the prince, duly concerned, "What's happened?"

"It's your father, sire," the servant's urgent words shocked the son of the king, "He's fallen gravely ill!"

* * *

This is quite the cliffhanger-laden story, hm?

Reviews will be used to put pillows at the bottom of the cliff.


	8. Feeling Harried

Sorry it's a few days late, I've been super busy and now have a figure drawing class that started two weeks earlier than what I originally had been thinking... my Saturday mornings are gone for the next 5 weeks. This chapter is slightly longer as a reward for your patience. But just slightly.

* * *

**Chapter Eight: Feeling Harried**

Somehow, Harry always seemed to find himself caught up in messes. Granted, he usually willfully got himself into those messes (the last 5 years of his life were a testament to that). But, on occasion, the messes found him. And this was one of those times. He'd had no intention in meddling in what was clearly no business of his (though that had never stopped him and his friends before). But in the commotion of it all, he found himself, along with Draco, pulled into it.

Arthur had immediately stopped what he'd been doing when he heard the news about his father. The page that had been sent to tell him had made it sound as though the illness may have been life threatening, and therefore required his immediate attention. Merlin, as both the prince's servant and the court physician's assistant was, of course, also needed. Then Harry had been told to run down to fetch Gaius, as the messenger who had come to alert them of the problem also had been ordered, by the guard who'd discovered the king's condition, to tell the Lady Morgana as well. Harry had been the nearest servant at the time, and thus was assigned the job (in the unfairness of it all). Draco then was left standing there for a moment, with no job to do and nowhere to go, but he decided that he was nobility enough to go with Arthur and several of the knights to Uther's room, and did so, finding everyone was too distracted by the urgent news to even question why he was there.

Harry found Gaius in his chambers, as usual, brewing up some foul-smelling cure or other. Suddenly, Harry knew where exactly the origins of modern potion-making were; the room reminded him entirely too much of Snape's potion-filled dungeon (without the depressive air or fear that he would be failed at any moment simply because Snape had had a tiff with his father when they'd gone to Hogwarts together).

"Um, Gaius," Harry called, peeking into the room, "Sir," he hastily added, unsure of how he should address the old physician. Said old man turned away from his bubbling cauldron for a moment to look at the young wizard. "King Uther is ill," he explained without waiting for an answer, feeling awkward. A sudden sense of urgency found its way into Gaius's previously calm eyes. He grabbed his large pack of medical supplies and made his way to the door.

"Is he in his chambers?" Gaius asked, walking rather quickly for his old frame.

"I think so," Harry replied, keeping up with long strides. The page had made it sound that way at least.

When they made it there, several of the knights were waiting outside the room. Inside, Arthur stood by his father's bed, with Merlin standing not far behind him, waiting. Gaius rushed as fast as his legs could take him to the king's side. Feeling out-of-place, Harry went to stand next to where Draco was leaning on the wall near the doorframe.

"The servant who came to change the linens found him like this," Arthur explained, barely able to keep the worry out of his voice.

"And what of the ones who brought his breakfast?" asked Gaius, opening his bag of supplies.

"They saw nothing amiss," the guard in the room answered for the pained-looking prince. "He was still asleep, but there was no sign of… this."

'This' was what was so concerning. The king's exposed face and hands were covered in lesions and bruise-like marks, like multiple blistering burn wounds. Gaius inspected these carefully, flipping through a large book he'd brought with him but seemingly not finding any matches. He tried several times to rouse Uther, but the king was unresponsive. The physician lifted up the unconscious man's eyelids peering into each one. Harry caught a glimpse of the king's eyes as he did so; they were pale and clouded over. For some reason, that felt familiar to the Gryffindor boy, but he couldn't quite place where he where he was seen it.

Gaius continued to flip through his book, his expression growing more and more concerned with each passing moment and re-checking Uther's vitals every few seconds. Harry shifted from foot to foot; something about all of this was bothering him. He turned to look at his Slytherin counterpart, who had a thoughtful expression on his face. Draco then nodded for Harry to follow him out the door.

"I don't know anything about Middle-Age illnesses," Harry whispered to Draco, fearing the guards could still hear them though they were far down the hall by now and still moving. "But this seems odd."

Draco nodded minutely. "You finally figured it out," he sneered back under his breath, "And it only took you eleven minutes." Harry looked at him pointedly over the tops of his oddly-shaped medieval glasses.

"It's magic, right?" said the dark-haired boy.

"I'd bet a Weasley's life on it," replied his pale companion. Harry looked at him dryly, but shrugged the comment off.

"Well, Gaius obviously isn't going to be able to cure it, then," said Harry. "We need to know exactly what the spell was to perform a counter-spell."

"So we need to know what wizard did this."

"And I'm assuming you didn't just get so bored of living like a spoiled rich muggle that you decided the hex the king."

"Me?" Draco asked, trying to sound innocent. "Hex someone? Never." He gave Harry a wry grin; Harry hadn't realized he was capable of making a joke. "Seriously, though, I would have sooner found myself snogging with _you_ than curse the one man giving us a place to stay as we sort out this mess." Harry grimaced at the comment, but agreed with the assessment. "And I'm guessing you didn't accidentally give the king a magical illness through some act of incompetency?"

"Oh, ha, ha," Harry responded. "Who else is there besides us?"

"Well, Merlin."

"I doubt it."

"Obviously."

"What about the Lady Morgana?"

"We don't even know if she's a witch. And how would she― or Merlin, for that matter― profit from Uther's demise?"

"Well, I don't know… who _could_ benefit―" Even as he said it, it hit him like a speeding bludger to the skull, causing him to stop in the middle of a wide stone staircase (but not fall off a broom, plummeting 20 stories, as had been the case during an unfortunate Quidditch practice his third year). The look on Draco's face showed that he realized it as well.

"Cepheus," the blond conceded. Harry nodded grimly.

* * *

"How do I know you aren't just going to run away?" Harry asked incredulously, handing Draco the Invisibility Cloak, which he'd taken from beneath his bedroll in Merlin's room.

"Just because I'm not a Gryffindor idiot doesn't mean I'm going to run at the first sign of a fight." Harry raised an eyebrow. That was usually exactly what it meant. Draco huffed. "And I need an excuse to use my wand― but it's so hard with Uther practically spying on you the whole time! Honestly, don't you feel like the magic builds up inside you until you're about to burst when you don't use it enough?"

"What you do in your spare time is none of my business, Draco," Harry replied cheekily. "Now come on, we've got work to do."

Armed with their wands hidden up their sleeves and all snarky comments tucked safely between their tongues and cheeks, the two headed for where Cepheus was staying on one of the lower― albeit nicer― floors of the castle. When they were nearby and, conveniently, there was no one else around, Draco threw the cloak around himself and disappeared from view. The plan was that Harry (obviously, as a Gryffindor, the braver of the two) would go in first and say that he was there to deliver a message about the king being ill, and then gauge his reaction to the news, decided exactly when to confront him on his involvement in the matter. Draco would hide nearby in the room and aid him if things got messy (for he knew far nastier spells than Harry had bothered to learn).

When they got to the room, the surrounding area was quiet. That probably should have sent a red flag up in the Hogwarts students' minds, but they ignored the foreboding feeling and went ahead with their plan. Harry knocked on the door and waited.

A moment later, the door swung inward on its hinges, apparently with no force added. A bit more cautiously than usual, Harry crept into the room and looked around, Draco shortly behind him, invisible and at his heels.

Inevitably, predictably, and oh-so-obviously, the door closed firmly behind them with an audible click.

And this, Harry summed up in his mind, was the reason he wished he hadn't gotten caught up in this mess in the first place.

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There you, a chapter hot of the presses― er... hot off the Microsoft Word.

Review, please! (It helps me not to be late when I have a lot of people giving feedback)


	9. All Intents and Purposes

Sorry for the lack of updates. I have a huge project for school I'm working on, and it sadly doesn't leave much room for writing. Updates might be shaky for a while…

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**Chapter Nine: All Intents and Purposes**

The sound of the door clicking shut seemed to echo around the room. Harry, his wand now at the ready, and Draco, hidden under the cloak, stood frozen in their places, waiting for an attack. But no attack came.

Instead, Cepheus Black merely stepped from the shadows in one particularly dark corner of the room (it was amazing how dark these rooms could get with the shades drawn). He was holding a tall walking stick― a staff, ornately carved along its length to look like snakes were writhing over the surface. His face was placid, looking over Harry calmly as he advanced. Harry shifted into an even more defensive stance.

"Come, now, boy," the head of the Black family said with a sneer, "Put that away before you hurt yourself." Harry stood strong. He couldn't see Draco, but he was really hoping the blond boy was still there by his side, preparing to attack.

"What did you do to the king?" Harry asked without preamble. Cepheus's sneer only grew more sinister. When he didn't reply right away, Harry continued. "Don't deny it, it must have been you."

"Deny it?" responded Cepheus in a silky voice, "Why would I deny it?" This threw Harry off-guard. Didn't the criminal usually feign innocence? Cepheus went on. "On the contrary, I want all the credit I deserve. You are a wizard, boy. Surely you can see the injustice in Uther's methods."

The scary part was, Harry did see it. He knew that Uther was repressing magic, and blaming even innocent sorcerers and sorceresses for what came to them naturally. But his opinion on what should be done about it and the reasons it was wrong differed greatly from what the old Black wizard believed.

"After all," Cepheus added as he saw Harry's expression grow wary as he thought, "Those with magic are far superior to those without. We should not be the hunted, downtrodden beasts that Uther has turned us into." Harry's face snapped back to anger. This was just pureblood prejudice rearing its ugly head again.

"So you plan to murder him?" he accused. "I thought he was your friend."

"No, not murder him. That would solve nothing," Cepheus explained, his voice still disturbingly calm. "If the king died now, his son would simply take over the throne. He, too, has been brainwashed against magic by Uther, and so his reign would show no difference in attitude towards our kind. And as for friendship… Uther and I fought together in the Great War, and I suppose you could have called us friends. But that man is a fool; he never even figured out that I have magic."

"So what exactly are you trying to do?" Harry was stalling for time, now. What was Draco waiting for? Why hadn't he attacked yet?

"Yes, well I suppose I should not have hoped that you would understand right away," Cepheus sneered. "Especially not with my _dear grandson_ standing there, waiting to attack." He tilted his staff forward in Draco's direction and hissed out, "V_indus cyoan_."

Beneath the cloak, Draco really had been about to attack. For a few moments there, he had almost changed his mind about doing so. Cepheus's words echoed all the lessons he'd been taught growing up in the Malfoy home about the superiority of pure blood. But… at the last moment, something told him that he had to stop the old wizard. He'd just raised his wand when Cepheus acknowledged his presence and was unable to get out the incantation for a spell before Cepheus spell took effect first. A rush of wind seemed to blow right through him, taking the cloak with it and blowing it away. He stood there, revealed, frozen for a moment by the coldness of the wind as he stared at Cepheus's mildly bemused face.

Harry took it upon himself, seeing that Draco wasn't going to do anything. _Once a coward, always a coward_, he thought, extending his wand arm and yelling "_Stupefy!"_

Cepheus merely stepped aside of the stream of magic, a move surprisingly deft for a man so old. In one fluid movement, Cepheus pointed the tip of the staff at Harry, now. The dark-haired boy felt as though he was watching in slow motion as Cepheus spoke another ancient-sounding word― "_saelan_" this time― and sent another spell flying his way. Harry's arms snapped to his sides and he fell painfully into a heap on the stone floor, as if invisible ropes were binding him, cutting into his skin when he tried to move.

The action finally snapped Draco out of his stunned state. Almost as if he'd been able to tell what Harry had been thinking earlier and was retorting, in his head, Draco yelled, _Draco Malfoy is no coward!_ He lifted his wand again, and was about to try the full-body-bind; as if sensing this, Cepheus repeated the spell that he'd used against Harry, and Draco fell as well, bound in the same invisible ropes.

Unable to do anything else, the two young wizards merely stared up at the old sorcerer. He looked down at them without pity, a look of triumphant contempt etched into his features.

"They'll know it was you," Harry growled, finding, luckily, that his mouth still worked. "They'll figure it out."

"Highly unlikely," Cepheus debunked. "They lack the intelligence. I have checked and re-checked; this plan is flawless." He paused, looking over the two boys restrained on the floor before him. "I will offer you one final chance," he said at last. "Join me in this cause of promoting magic."

"Go to hell," Harry said simply, wasting no time in answering. Draco rolled his eyes; as if the pride and joy of Gryffindor would ever agree to such a thing.

The Slytherin boy, however, was another case entirely.

Cepheus turned his eyes upon his descendent, waiting for his response. But it wasn't something he was just going to decide in a moment's notice, as Harry had done. He needed to consider all sides of it.

Surely, his parents would have wanted him to choose the path that would most benefit pureblooded wizards. That was, of course, Cepheus's plan, if it all went the way he intended. But there was always the chance it could fail. What would happen then? He'd likely be beheaded if it all went wrong. That just wouldn't work for the blond boy― he liked his head just where it was, thank-you-very-much. Plus, there was that whole 'mess with the past, ruin the entire future' thing that was nagging at the back of his mind…

But, overarching all of this was a strange feeling that Draco was sure he'd never experienced. What was this… this… _morality_ he seemed to be experiencing? He actually _wanted_ to do the right thing. It was… sickening. Did Potter feel this way all the time? No wonder he tried to save the day so often.

But his mind was now made up, and he knew what he had to do. He looked up at his ancestor's oddly patient face, his grey eyes set and resolute.

"Go to hell," he repeated Harry's words, adding, "And take your sorry excuse for an evil plan with you."

* * *

Oh snap! Yeah, Draco went there… _And what happened next? Well, at Hogwarts they say that Draco's small heart grew three sizes that day._

I almost included that sentence in the chapter. _Almost_.

Oh, and Cepheus' plan is only half revealed. Stick around for more, and review to make it happen, please!


	10. The Puppet Master's Plan

Whoo, chapter 10! Enjoy it!

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**Chapter Ten: The Puppet Master's Plan**

The look on Cepheus Black's face as highly disconcerting― as if being on the floor bound in invisible ropes wasn't disturbing enough. But it wasn't the usual "face of evil" that Harry typically pictured. Granted, that face was usually Voldemort, and it was hard for the snake-like man to express any emotions other than pure evil and hate, even when he was smiling. But now the Boy Who Lived was set before an entirely different expression.

Cold, hard, indifference.

It seemed as though Cepheus truly didn't care whether they joined him in his task or not. And it was quite obvious that he didn't care for the fate of the two boys that he was captured trying to stop him. And that was, perhaps, just as frightening as any noseless snarl the Dark Lord could pull off. This was beyond the maniacal insanity that drove Voldemort's actions; Cepheus was past insanity and into stunning clarity.

"No matter," the white-haired man dismissed Draco's harsh words. "It's not as though I needed your cooperation. In fact, that may have just been a hindrance in the scheme of it all. Besides," he addressed Draco alone, lifting the end of his staff and jabbing it against Harry's stomach, "I would not want you to back out and try to help your friend here."

Draco wanted to protest. He wanted to scream out _Harry is not my friend!_ But even as he thought this, he realized the change in the way he thought about his school rival. For one thing, it was "Harry" now, not just "Potter" or "Gryffindor Idiot". But that wasn't a big change― it wasn't as if he were friends with the guy now… right? Regardless, he kept the thoughts to himself. Something else that Cepheus had said bothered him more.

"What do you mean… help him?" Draco asked, as a winded Harry breathed in a gulp of air.

"You didn't think my entire plan rested on the king simply appreciating my help, did you?" Cepheus admonished. "How quaint. Your mind really does still work in the simple ways of a child. No, I am well aware of what would result if I were to reveal myself so suddenly as a sorcerer with a miracle cure for Uther's ails. I need someone else to take the blame. You understand, of course."

Harry sure understood. They'd walked right into it. "You set us up!" he exclaimed when his lungs had reclaimed enough function to allow him to speak.

"Very good, child," Cepheus said, looking down his nose at the boy who had just spoken. "Really, did you not think it odd that you found me so easily? That I was here waiting for you when you arrived?" He smirked again. "However; I wouldn't want to besmirch the family name, and so I couldn't use you, of course. Therefore, this servant of yours is the obvious choice."

In the light of everything that was happening, Draco didn't think it appropriate to confess now that Harry wasn't actually his servant; Harry seemed to be thinking along the same lines, too worried about what was going to happen to worry about seeming like one of Draco's underlings.

"I'll never help you," Harry declared.

"Not willingly, no. I'm quite capable of perceiving such obvious hostility. But I assure you, there are other ways of dealing with that." Cepheus pointed the end of his staff at Harry again. It was no use trying to move away, and Harry's labored movements didn't help him get away from the dark sorcerer fast enough. "_Imperio_," Cepheus enunciated clearly.

Harry felt a sort of cold grip take over his mind. He'd been under the Imperious Curse before, but the one he'd been under from the false Mad-Eye Moody during his fourth year was certainly not as strong as this one. This was a vice-like hold on his mind― his control held for only a few seconds before breaking entirely. Trying to wiggle out of this hold over him was as futile as struggling against the invisible bindings had been earlier. But he could still see everything as if watching from a dream.

Draco watched this brief exchange in shock; he was unable to do anything as the foggy glaze fell over Harry's eyes.

"How do you know that curse?" he asked of Cepheus in disbelief.

"Know it?" Cepheus chuckled a bit. "Foolish child, I _invented_ it. And by your reaction, I'd say its reputation precedes me. You know what effect it has, don't you?" He looked down at Harry, who was still lying motionless on the floor and appearing catatonic. Cepheus pointed his staff at Harry and the boy seemed to de-stiffen visibly, showing that the bindings were cut. "Rise." He commanded. Harry climbed to his feet, his movements jerky, like the marionette he'd become.

"What are you going to do?" Draco asked, fearing that he already knew the answer.

"Simple, dear grandson," Cepheus sneered, "He is going to go to the king with the obvious intent to harm him using magic. I'll save Uther, of course. And you…" He turned to Draco. "You're going to watch it all helplessly, and die tragically in the crossfire." He let the statement hang in the air for a while, impounding the terror. Then, he pointed his staff at Draco. "_Imperio_."

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Bah, short chapter (more explanatory than anything). But it would have to be twice as long to cover any more of the plot.

Please review!


	11. Enchanted to Meet You

Sorry for the delay. I'm a second semester high school senior and I should be enjoying myself, but I've had SO MUCH to do.

However, I have some great news that got me so excited I just need to share it: I just found out that I got into― and will be attending― arguably the best art school in the country. So, this got me into the mood to celebrate. What better way to do so than share a bit of the writing that I love so much?

Enjoy it!

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**Chapter Eleven: Enchanted to Meet You**

Everything seemed fairly normal, to the casual observer. A boy with glasses, the servant of a guest who had been staying in the castle for a short while now, were merely walking through the stone corridors. But if anyone had looked closely, beyond those spectacle frames they would have seen the eyes that were usually so bright green clouded over with a milky haze. He moved forward silently, a look of placid calm over his features― a look of total blankness. The boy walked up the stairs; he was headed towards the king's chambers.

Several hundred feet behind him down the hall, conveniently far enough back so that no suspicion in any form could be placed upon them, Cepheus Black and his grandson could be seen walking at a leisurely pace. The old man seemed to be in the middle of telling the teenaged boy something that gave him great pleasure― it was rare to see him smiling as he was, after all. The boy was not really reacting to what his grandfather was saying. Instead, he simply held a look of blank composure about him that didn't seemed to faze Cepheus in the slightest. They continued walking, following the servant boy as he approached the king's room.

There were two guards standing outside of Uther's bedroom. The king was ill and the court physician seemed to believe the circumstances therein were a bit suspicious, and so the guards had been placed on duty there to ensure that no one entered with the intent of doing harm to their ruler. The task had truthfully been rather boring thus far, until a dark haired boy with glasses approached and stood in front of them, not saying anything.

"We can't allow entry without permission from the prince or the physician," the taller of the two soldiers stated. He'd seen this boy around before― in fact, he'd been in the room earlier that day― but orders were orders. Slowly, almost lazily, the boy turned his head slightly to the man who had spoken.

Somewhere, way at the back of his mind, Harry Potter sat curled up in a little ball, desperately trying to block out a kind of irritating buzzing noise that was interfering with his concentrating on figuring out where exactly he was and how he'd gotten there. If he listened closely to the buzzing, it almost sounded like words. It was a mix of whispers and yells, of overlapping voices that commanded him to do one thing: _take them down. _

Presently, Harry's arm rose, stretching out before him towards the guards. They stared at the object in his hand; what was he showing them a stick for?

"_Stupefy_," Harry intoned in a voice devoid of emotion. There was a flash of light, and then a loud, banging clatter as the two stunned soldiers fell to the stone floor, their mail causing a racket. Harry moved past the unconscious men into the king's chambers.

Arthur stood by his father's bedside, concerned with his wellbeing. To say that the king and the prince always got along was a gross overstatement―for they'd _certainly_ had their share of disagreements―, but he was truly upset that his father had fallen so ill. For all his bravado (and though he might not have admitted it), Arthur was still a boy who was simply worried about his father. And he really didn't believe he'd be ready to take the throne of Camelot should something… happen. But he didn't want to think about anything like that now. At the moment, his concerns were with making sure his father recovered.

He was already on alert before the commotion outside his father's bedchambers began and, upon hearing the loud clanging, his sword was out in an instant and he whirled to face the doorway. Warily, he looked towards the door and waited for any indication of what had happened.

"What's going on out there?" he called to the guards in an authoritative voice. The two men could have been slacking off― or, for all he knew, Merlin could be outside the door, knocking things over with his clumsiness as usual. But he received no reply. Then that boy― the servant who had come with that snotty blond and his grandfather― appeared from around the corner where the door was just out of view. Arthur relaxed only slightly, looking curiously at the stick the boy was holding by his side. "What are you doing in here?" he asked dismissively, "And why did those idiots let you in?"

Vexingly― and irritatingly, as this was the second time that very minute that this had happened and it was simply_ not_ acceptable― Arthur received no response. The boy merely looked at him with a blank expression; it was as if he were waiting.

"I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask you to leave," Arthur growled, tightening the grip on his sword and raising it slightly to show that he was serious. He didn't have time for this sort of thing― not when his father lay behind him in such a state.

In Harry's head, the buzzing swelled to form words again, pushing him onward towards his task: _remove the obstruction; do not kill him. He needs to see everything._ Harry's body complied.

Instead of turning and running as Arthur had expected, the servant boy with the strange spectacles lifted his right arm, showing the stick to Arthur as if he were pointing at the confused prince. Said prince took a step forward, extending his sword in almost a mirror image of his strange, stick-wielding counterpart. Arthur was reminded of the many duels in which he'd participated― and won. And if he could win against trained knights and warriors, certainly there was no way a servant boy with a _stick_ was going to be any different. However, before Arthur could take another step forward, he found out exactly what that stick could do.

"_Expelliarmus._" The strange word tumbled out of the dark-haired boy's mouth in a flat, heavy tone, and Arthur felt the hilt of the sword torn from his steady grip by an unseen force. It landed behind the servant boy with an unsettling clang; the boy made no motion to retrieve it. Arthur looked at him in surprise, still ready to fight despite the lack of weapon. But that couldn't have been magic… could it? He soon received his answer. "_Petrificus totalis._"

As the bizarre paralysis set in, locking his arms and legs to his body, and Arthur fell to the stone floor, he suddenly understood. This _was_ magic― and he stood no chance against it. It was just as his father said: magic and those who used it were evil. He could see it now, the entire plot unfolding before him. Clearly, Gaius had been unable to cure his father because his illness was, in fact, a curse, set upon him by the glasses-wearing sorcerer that now stood before Arthur. Maybe the king wasn't dying fast enough, and the boy had returned to finish the job.

Arthur couldn't remember feeling more helpless. There was no use even trying to move his body; beyond his eyes and basic respiration, his was utterly frozen. Still, the servant boy-turned-sorcerer stared at him blankly. Arthur gazed back at him, refusing to show his fear, even whilst facing the tip of that accursed stick.

There was no fighting magic.

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Whew! That's all i can manage for now. Please review!

Oh, and one special announcement of shameless self-advertisement: after promising to do so for a _very_ long time, I've finally created a new DeviantArt account that will have my actual work on it (by actual I mean not fanart, fanfiction, or random scribbles… serious art and writing). If you don't mind, I'd love for you to check it out (even though there's not much there for now, it's a start)! It's at scribbles-the-scribe(dot)deviantart(dot)com (replace the (dot)s… or if you're too lazy, there's a link in my profile).

And again, review, please!


	12. Remotely Controlled

It's been a little while since I last updated… sorry, I had everything involved with the end of high school to deal with. But I'm done now! And my goal is to finish this story before I head off to college and never have any time to write. That shouldn't be too hard, as this story is coming to a close very soon.

I put a little bit about the Imperious Curse (again) at the beginning because people have been asking. I guess I wasn't clear enough before about the strength of Cepheus's curse.

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**Chapter Twelve: Remotely Controlled **

Harry and Draco had each been under the Imperious Curse before.

Harry's first experience with its icy grip had been under the Death Eater impersonating Alastor Moody and, in that case, it had been a fairly weak use of the curse. They were in a classroom setting after all and, deranged Death Eater or not, turning a student into a veritable vegetable would have been mildly suspicious. Harry had been able to break out of it.

Draco's father had been the one to expose his son to the loss of control that came with the Imperious. He wanted Draco to know exactly what it felt like and be able to ward it off the next time it occurred. And while there was no way of comparing the two experiences, leaving it unknown to Draco or Harry, the curse that Lucius had cast on his son had been stronger and therefore harder to break than the one that Harry had been under. With a little practice, though, Draco had been able to break away as well.

However, the version of the curse that Cepheus Black had placed on his far descendent and the Boy Who Lived was far beyond anything they'd been exposed to before. There was a certain frightening strength behind the old sorcerer's magic power that came from being the original source of the spell he was using. Thus, the two boys had, as of yet, been unable to free themselves.

But the curse was not without its flaws. Much of its effectiveness depended on the concentration of the castor. And in this regard, Cepheus Black was not unflappable, especially when he had to control two victims at the same time (as well as the King, though he was considerably less of a threat). Both boys were struggling and, from the perspective of an outside observer with omnipresent capabilities, one might notice that when the Black patriarch gave his attention to maintaining control over one of the boys, his hold over the other slipped in the slightest amount. Each time this happened, that one boy nearly broke free. And that would prove to be its undoing.

Thus far, Cepheus's plan had been coming together exactly as he had intended. Nothing could stop him now, with both wizard boys under his control― it wasn't as if there were some other powerful sorcerer that could come and stop him.

* * *

Merlin had left Arthur alone with his father and with Gaius to fetch some special herbs from the forest just outside Camelot, which the physician hoped would help with King Uther's ailment. He had just bent over to cut a few blades of onion grass when a sudden jolt ran through him, making his fingers tingle and his head swim for a few brief moments. His magic was tugging at him again, and this time it was telling him to go to the castle. He looked up at Gaius, who, in turn, was giving him a concerned look. Then the old man seemed to understand.

"Go," he said; and Merlin went.

* * *

Now came the part when Cepheus would need to employ some acting skills. After all, this had to look and sound realistic to Prince Arthur, as he would surely be the one to tell King Uther of what had transpired (and, in theory, the merits of what Cepheus had done). When he was close enough to the door, he began.

"Thank you for alerting me to this matter, Draco," he said loudly enough that the petrified prince would hear. "I shudder to think of what could have happened to him. You say you suspect a magical reason behind his illness? That is indeed a frightening possibility."

Arthur _did _hear, as he was meant to, and found himself praying that the two of them would enter and save him from his current predicament, in which the wizard boy's deadly stick was aimed at his face. After pausing for a moment, Cepheus began to speak again, the concern in his voice sounding very realistic.

"What is going on here?" he demanded of the stunned guards who, naturally, did not respond. Then he appeared in the doorway, preparing for the real show to begin.

* * *

Merlin ran through lower Camelot and was miraculously not out of breath by the time he made it to the inner castle. But he had a ways to go.

* * *

Presently, Draco ran at Harry, looking for all the world like he was making a brave move in stopping anything Harry had been about to do. It was then that Cepheus commanded Harry to kill Draco. It was also then that his plan hit its first snag.

Harry's brain recoiled violently from the word "kill" that had been suggested to it. Killing went so much against the core of Harry's being that it was enough to make his addled mind realize that it was not under its own control, and that was enough to bring Harry's consciousness nearly above the surface imposed by the curse. His wand arm dropped back to his side and he blinked in confusion, trying to remember who and where he was. So instead of "dying tragically in the crossfire" as Cepheus's plan dictated, Draco merely tackled Harry to the ground as he'd been instructed. Cepheus redoubled his will over Harry, pulling him back under the curse's control, and told him to fight back. As he did this, he lost a bit of the hold over Draco; the two continued to grapple on the floor, appearing as though in the middle of an intense wresting match.

"Be careful, Draco," Cepheus said in false caring, "He seems dangerous."

Arthur watched this all from the floor, thankful that he'd been rescued (though unwilling to admit that it had been necessary). Everything was happening quickly; he barely even wondered why the old man didn't even try to help.

In truth, Cepheus was growing frustrated. For his plan to work, Harry needed to kill Draco, allowing him to return the favor in a "fit of rage". It was a sacrifice that he was willing to make, but he could do nothing if it didn't happen in the first place. So he strengthened his will towards Harry even further.

And it was then that Draco broke free.

* * *

Fret not, the next chapter has already been written. I just needed to split it because it was getting long (and because, as you know, I _love_ cliffhangers far more than any author should). I'll post the next part in a few days.

In the meantime, review, please! Reviews will be used as a flotation device for Harry's mind to resurface.


	13. Poker Face

Here we are, part two of the climax. Sorry it's short, I took out a part that I didn't like.

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**Chapter Thirteen: Poker Face**

The haze cleared from Draco's eyes and he found himself blinking in confusion as his mind resurfaced from the effects of the curse. When he came back to himself, it took a moment to realize exactly what was happening. He was currently on the floor, wrestling with none other than Harry Potter. Upon seeing the way the other boy's eyes were clouded over in a strange manner (and noting that, while they were fighting, Potter was not slinging half-clever insults his way, which was certainly out of the norm) Draco suddenly remembered everything that had happened over the last week, right up until he'd been cursed by Cepheus. And he knew had had to do something to break Harry out of the curse as well, and fast.

Finding that his hands were too occupied in keeping Harry's wand from pointing at him to remove his own from where it was hidden in his pocket, Draco then tried a verbal approach.

"Snap out of it, Potter!" he yelled, hoping it would get through to the boy. It had no effect, but Draco kept trying. "You're under his curse, just try to break out of it! Come on, Harry!"

From the other side of the room, Cepheus chuckled softly at Draco's futile attempts. He supposed he could have put the boy back under the Imperious Curse, but at this point, it was more fun to watch him struggle. And more realistic.

If he had stopped to think for a moment, he might have realized that his plan had hit another snag. Sure, he was rejoicing in the fact that the fight seemed real and Draco would probably be killed by Harry eventually, but he was too caught up in it all to notice that he himself had broken character. Arthur heard Draco trying to stop his servant, wondering whom the sorcerer behind the curse the blond was referring to could be. And then he heard Cepheus chuckle and realized that the man was doing nothing. And that made the prince very confused and very, very concerned.

The boys continued to fight on the stone floor, rolling about and knocking over many a handcrafted tabled and precious vase, with Draco saying various things imploring Harry to shake off the curse (ranging from "please, Harry, I'll be your best friend…" to "your mother was a mudblood whore, Potter, what do you think of that?"). Clearly, this tactic wasn't working; he needed something stronger, like a way to shock Harry's brain into control again.

Then, as he swatted Harry's wand from his grip with his left arm, Draco realized exactly what that shock could be. It was the boy's hidden shame― something meant to show that he was tough enough to survive as a real dark wizard, but in truth only served to remind him of his cowardice. He hadn't wanted the thing in the first place, but it seemed as though, today, it would serve its purpose.

With one swift movement, Draco pinned Harry to the floor beneath him and pulled back the sleeve over his left arm, revealing the black, twisting outline of the Dark Mark.

* * *

Merlin ran up the second flight of stairs he'd encountered, nearly knocking over Guinevere and the Lady Morgana as he did so. He could apologize later; right now, his magic was telling him to go to King Uther's bedchamber with the utmost of urgency.

* * *

The initial revelation of Draco's Dark Mark was not enough to get Harry out of the spell, but the Slytherin wizard found a way around that. With Harry still pinned wandless beneath him, he pressed his forearm to the other boy's forehead; curse scar and Dark Mark met solidly. Harry screamed.

The pain was terrible― Harry felt as though Dobby and Crookshanks had taken turns bashing him with a hot poker and scratching at his skin (respectively), then focused a Cruciatus Curse inside his skull. But when the white-hot pain dissipated, Harry found himself stunningly lucid. Draco was standing over him, offering a hand. He accepted, standing shakily.

"What just happened?" Harry asked, retrieving his wand.

"I'll fill you in later…" Draco mumbled― rather uncharacteristically― while looking away. They turned to Cepheus, prepared for a fight.

Unexpectedly, the white-haired man was merely looking at them with a sense of great distain, but he did not appear to be about to try to curse them again. Instead, he seemed disappointed, but just as condescending as ever as he leaned some of his weight on his staff.

"I should have known that you would ruin everything," he stated, his tone unnervingly calm. "But who could expect anything less from the future of wizardry?" He smiled coldly. Draco had his wand out now and both Hogwarts students were standing in duel-ready stances. But neither dared to initiate anything. "So it seems as though there must be a change in plans― a shame, really, as the original could have worked perfectly with your cooperation. But no matter." He lifted his staff, and the two young wizards prepared to either dodge an attack or put all their strength into a defensive strategy. They didn't anticipate his actual choice of moves. "Looks like the prince will have to suffer," he said, pointing the staff in the direction of the currently defenseless prince, the magic words hiding in wait behind his tongue.

And it was then that Merlin, in true heroic fashion, finally made it to the battle scarred room, with magic words of his own ready to beat Cepheus to the draw.

* * *

Yeah, I decided to cut it there again. But before you throw me in the stocks and begin tossing the rotten vegetables, let me speak; I can assure you this is the final time I stop at so climactic a point, as this story is nearly over. And I will update as soon as I can, because there are only a few chapters left and I want to finish this for you guys as soon as possible.

Please review! I'm not sure if you guys get this, but reviews really help me know what you like or dislike and they help me not forget about this story, so they're really important.

Reviews will be used to pop the tension balloon and relieve all this pressure.


	14. The Enemy of my Enemy

Sorry it took a little while, I changed my plans for part of this and had to do a _LOT_ more thinking to figure out what to do.

Also, side comment: I was watching part of a Dr. Who episode and happened to see Colin Morgan (Merlin) playing a goth kid therein. Go figure.

* * *

**Chapter Fourteen: The Enemy of my Enemy...**

Merlin didn't know many spells off the top of his head, even when he wasn't in such an urgent and stressful situation. Had he had more than a few seconds to spare, he might have been able to just make something up on the spot― though Harry and Draco's very presence was a display of how that had gone wrong the last time he'd done that, so that also wasn't the greatest option. But there was one use of magic that he had always been able to call upon. And so, having run in with only a split second to decide, Merlin did the first thing that came to him almost instinctually; Cepheus toppled backwards as the ornamental carpet beneath his feet was magically yanked forward.

Thus, Merlin had saved Arthur's life. Again. He wished the prince would at least thank him every once in a while… not that he was always aware of Merlin's help. But it was the principle of the thing.

Merlin had assumed Arthur to be unconscious, given his state of being on the floor, but he was, in truth, very much _not_ unconscious. He was, however, quite confused again. One moment, Cepheus was standing with his staff pointed towards Arthur with the clear intent to harm him, and then the next moment he was falling over, out of Arthur's line of vision. The he heard Merlin's voice.

"Are you okay?" he called and Arthur found that he couldn't respond to say _No, Merlin, you bloody idiot, I am most certainly NOT OKAY._ Instead, he saw Draco and his servant nod.

Meanwhile, Cepheus was getting back to his feet. Merlin hadn't really thought any of this out beyond tripping the man. Luckily, he didn't have to.

At precisely the correct moment, there was one of those miracle-like coincidences that only comes around every once in a great while. In the grand scheme of things, some would say that there is no such occurrence as a coincidence; rather, there is only very powerful magic that manifests in strange ways. Regardless of definition, Harry and Draco both knew exactly what to do, as though their brains had linked up for a split second through a kind of bond that tied them together.

Simultaneously, they both raised their wands to point at Cepheus as he began to straighten out and yelled out "_STUPEFY!_" The double attack on the off-guard sorcerer, combined with the one-in-a-million timing that caused him to be hit by the two stunning spells at exactly the same time, sent him to the floor again, assuredly unconscious.

For a few moments, nobody spoke or moved. Harry and Draco then looked at each other, surprised, as Merlin made sure Cepheus was really knocked out, taking possession of his staff just in case he wasn't.

"That was… almost anticlimactic," Harry stated thoughtfully, "Are you sure he's not faking?"

"He's not," Merlin replied, lifting one of the man's hands and letting it fall back to his body in a way no conscious brain would allow. "What about Arthur?"

"Oh, right," Draco said as though it were a chore to point his wand at the frozen prince, "_Finite._"

Arthur, who by now had some very _serious_ questions that he needed answered, felt the strength return to his previously petrified limbs. He immediately used that strength to shake off the help Merlin was offering and stand up on his own, looking around the room accusingly.

"Tell me what is going on, I want answers, now!"

Draco smirked. "Maybe we should bind him again. It might shut him up."

"You…" Arthur turned to growl at Draco, "You could have released me that entire time! But you're sorcerers, I shouldn't expect any different." Merlin looked at Arthur in confusion and fear; the prince didn't take his eyes off Draco and Harry. Suddenly Merlin understood― Arthur still did not know of his magical abilities. He really could be thick sometimes.

"Would you at least think before say such stupid things?" Draco countered.

"We saved you," Harry agreed, "And your father."

"Only after you attacked me!" Arthur wished his sword wasn't somewhere on the other side of the room, just in case he needed it.

"But I was under _his _control!" Harry exclaimed, gesturing towards Cepheus. Arthur was silent for moment.

"My father," he said after a while, "You can cure him?" Draco and Harry both nodded, and Arthur looked relieved. He glanced at Cepheus. "Somebody should really tie him up," he said, much of the arrogant good humor back in his voice.

"Already on it," Merlin chirped, pulling some spare bedclothes from a cupboard and moving to wrap them securely around the still-unconscious Black patriarch.

"Honestly, Merlin, could you have been any slower?" Arthur sneered as his manservant checked his knots, "You arrived just as the fight was ending and, as usual, were utterly useless."

Merlin didn't reply to the prince's taunting, instead turning to share a knowing glance with the two other young wizards in the room. Yes, Arthur really could be thick sometimes, but Merlin wouldn't prefer it any other way.

* * *

It's short, I know, and I don't like certain parts, but I wanted to finish it as soon as possible because I'm going to be moving into my college dorm in just a few days and I'm not sure if I'll have time to write for a while. But, hey, at least I didn't end it on a cliffhanger this time.

Don't worry; I know exactly how I want this to end now (in one or two more chapters). And just because Cepheus has been taken down, doesn't mean the story is over just yet!

And please review and keep me motivated to write in whatever bit of time I'll have!


	15. is my Friend

Wah! I have so little free time now! Regardless, I've managed to watch the new episodes of Merlin and that's given me inspiration to write. Enjoy!

* * *

**Chapter Fifteen: …is my Friend**

"Perhaps I was wrong about you," Arthur admitted begrudgingly, as he and the three sorcerers left Uther's bedchambers. They'd cured him, and it had apparently been easy. The king was now under Gaius's care until he'd wake up later and the old physician would tell him a suitable lie.

"Apology accepted," Draco said in his usual Draco-ish way. Arthur narrowed his eyes and looked at him with an unamused face.

"…as I was _saying_," he continued through gritted teeth, "Perhaps not all magic is evil." From behind Arthur and Draco, Merlin exchanged a looked with Harry and smiled― even under the weight of the still-unconscious Cepheus, whom they were carrying between their shoulders (to any passing person, they'd explain that the old man had suddenly collapsed, and that they were taking him down to Gaius's chambers). Maybe this was a turning point, and Merlin wouldn't have to hide his magic from Arthur anymore.

But then his heart sank with just one word:

"However," Arthur continued, unaware of what was going on inside his servant's head, "I can't knowingly allow those who practice magic to remain in Camelot."

"Are you kicking us out?" Draco asked in slight amusement, smirking.

"It's for the best," Arthur replied, a similar smirk on his lip as well, "And certainly not because I _personally_ don't like you, or anything."

"That's perfectly fine," Draco said, "I wouldn't want to be somewhere where I can't use magic for my every whim anyway. And, really, it's not because Camelot lacks proper hygiene facilities or that the whole city smells like cow dung." Harry looked between the two of them as they spoke with such mock-pleasantry; the similarities were frightening. Clearly, this was how both of them made friends.

"What are we going to do about Cepheus?" Merlin asked, changing the subject.

"We can obliv― erm, wipe his memories of this entire thing," Harry answered, "He won't remember what happened or his intentions against Uther." He'd made up that last part; instead, Cepheus wouldn't remember everything they'd told him about the future of magic, which had sparked the attack in the first place. "He'll think that he came for a pleasant visit and left in the same manner."

"You can do that?" Merlin asked, because, hey, that might be a useful thing to know how to do.

"Yeah," Harry replied, seeing the intent behind Merlin's question, "But if you use too much force, the person can go insane." Case in point: one Gilderoy Lockhart.

"And you expect there not to be any sort of punishment?" Arthur asked, his amusement gone.

"Trust me," Draco responded, "In this case, it'll only make things work. It's punishment enough that his plan failed."

It was at this point that the party reached Gauis's room. Merlin and Harry hobbled over to the bed and laid Cepheus upon it.

"I should leave," the prince stated once Cepheus was down, "I can't be around magic any longer. I know too much about this already for it to sit comfortably with me. The less I know, the less I have to lie to my father about. And I want the two of you out of Camelot as soon as possible." He turned to go, but then stopped at the door and turned back again. "Oh, and Merlin."

"Yes?" Merlin asked, sincerely hoping that Arthur didn't know about his magic after all.

"You won't tell anyone about all this, of course," he warned.

"I wouldn't dream of it, sire," the sorcerer replied obediently, and his master, satisfied, left to return to his father's side.

When he was gone, Merlin sank into a nearby chair with a massive sigh of relief.

"We can erase his memory, too, if you want," Draco suggested, sounding like he very much enjoyed the idea. Merlin shook his head.

"No… I think, in a way, this was good," he said. "I might not be ready to tell Arthur about my magic just yet, but at least he's beginning to see that magic isn't all bad." He shrugged. "So there's hope."

* * *

Everything in Camelot was returning to normal― not that most of the people had even noticed that anything out of the ordinary had happened to begin with. Cepheus had been sent on his way, unaware that the visit had been anything more than the friendly encounter of old friends. Draco and Harry had told Arthur that they would soon follow him to comply with the prince's wishes, though their true destination was somewhere else entirely. After days of searching, Merlin had found the spell that would return them to their own time.

The three sorcerers now stood in that same clearing in the wood. Harry and Draco's clothing had been returned to its normal state and everything was prepared for them to go back to Hogwarts.

"It would be nice to know how we got here in the first place," Draco observed as Merlin re-read the spell within his book, assuring himself that he had it right. "You said the spell was 'I call upon those who have need of me,' right? It seems to me like we helped you more than anything."

"No, I think I get it," Harry said. "You and I… I think we need to be on the same side of the war against Voldemort. Being brought here helped with that." Draco's eyes widened in surprise, but then he understood as well, and nodded. But then he remembered.

"Um, Harry," he said, uncharacteristically quiet, "There's something I need to tell you… or, rather, _show _you."

And with that, he pulled back the sleeve on his left arm, and Harry's face changed from confusion to anger.

* * *

Yyyyyep, miniature cliffhanger. This is my last chance, dear readers, as the next chapter will be the conclusion of this little tale.

Please review! I'll love you forever, and the next chapter will be out sooner.


	16. All Good Things

Yeah, so this was supposed to be a quick story, but it took me a year… I'm good like that.

This is the last chapter, dear readers, I hope you enjoy it!

* * *

**Chapter Sixteen: All Good Things**

In an instant, a strong friendship can break under the sudden force of betrayal; the blossoming friendship between Draco and Harry was tentative at best, and so the time it took for their own ties to snap was perhaps even shorter.

Harry's muscles were tensed, his jaw clenched tightly in a way that made his temples ache. His vision had narrowed, focused on Draco and the accursed Dark Mark, with everything else at the edges fading to nothing. He didn't move. He was too angry.

"At least let me explain―" Draco began almost pitifully.

"What is there to explain?" Harry hissed, cutting him off. "You're with _him… _And to think I'd begun to trust you."

Draco, who until that point had remained still as well, pulled his sleeve back down over the offending mark.

"And that's why I'm telling you now!" he insisted, "What makes you think I actually wanted this?"

"I don't know," Harry shouted back, his voice filled with bitter sarcasm, "Maybe the fact that you've behaved like a Death Eater since we were first years? And not to mention your muggle-hating parents!"

"Don't talk about my family, Potter, you know nothing about them!" Draco's wand was drawn. "And at least I've _got _parents," he sneered.

And then Harry's wand was out as well. "Don't you _dare_ even mention―"

"Guys, stop!" a third voice cut into the mounting fight. Merlin. Their wands lowered slightly from where they were poised to attack as the two other wizards looked at him. They'd nearly forgotten he was there. "You're friends," he reminded them.

"Hmph, barely," Draco sniffed, but he put his wand away. Harry lowered his arm to his side, but did not put his wand away completely.

"Look," Merlin reasoned. "I don't know what that thing on Draco's arm means, but we have more important things to worry about right now. Namely, getting you home."

Harry looked down and away for a moment, before nodding and putting his wand back into his pocket. But while he cooperated with Merlin as the powerful sorcerer prepared the spell that sent them tumbling through a flurry of dizzying lights and sound, he did not speak or look Draco in the eyes even once.

* * *

Hagrid was a good teacher, if one were to ask any Gryffindor. But even Harry had to admit that he wished the giant man would cover a bit more material than the proper care and feeding of blast-ended skrewts. Like, say, information about the rather large, saw-toothed creature that was currently growling at him from a gap in the trees. Harry's first instinct would be to call it a bear, but, of course, this was the Forbidden Forest and so nothing could be _normal_, he internally complained. This creature was larger than any bear he'd ever heard of and covered in a scale-like exoskeletal armor that made it shine like a wet fish. Harry inched backwards. There was no time to be pondering the species and genus of such a creature; behind him was nothing but a craggy bluff and a steep drop to more rocks below. Harry's wand lay behind the bear-like thing where he'd dropped it while trying to avoid the beast.

Harry realized, quite plainly, that leaving Draco unconscious where they'd landed from Merlin's spell to find his bearings in the dense forest had been an exceedingly stupid idea. It was getting dark, he had no idea where he was going, and Draco, whom he was still obviously mad at, would have no idea where he'd gone. Yes, Harry was a bona fide genius when he was angry.

And so he had to make a choice: possible death by falling or almost certain death by sharp teeth and claws. He took another small step back and it was decided for him, as a chuck of what had seemed like stable rock crumbled away and he slipped, only barely catching himself with his forearms on the edge of the small cliff. At the sudden movement, the creature charged.

"_Diffindo_!" a voice cried, and the beast was knocked off course. It stood up again, somewhat shakily but now enraged, and turned its sights on a new target: Draco. But the boy didn't give the creature a chance to attack before firing yet another spell. "_Reducto_!"

Harry was just able to see the spell hit and the beast fall before he himself lost his grip on the rock and fell as well. He slid painfully down the rock face for a few feet, catching his grip again on a root that was jutting out from the rocky earth.

"Harry!" he heard Draco yell, and a moment later, the boy's blond head appeared in view. "Hold on," he advised, looking for a way to help.

"What does it _look _like I'm doing?" Harry hissed back. The root slipped from the stone slightly and, in a panic, he planted his foot into the wall of rock. It twisted painfully, but he did not fall.

Draco disappeared and then reappeared again with a rope, conjured by magic. He'd tied it around a sturdy tree and now lowered it down to Harry. Once Harry had transferred his grip to the rope, it began to wind up slowly, ensuring that the boy who lived continued to do just that. Draco grasped his arms and pulled him up over the last few difficult feet. The two lay beside each other for a minute or two, exhausted and breathing quickly.

"You're an idiot, you know that?" Draco berated, standing and holding out a hand.

"Yeah," Harry agreed, "I'm aware of that." Harry accepted the proffered aid, but crumbled to the ground again upon standing, grabbing his ankle in pain. "Ah, I must have twisted it," he breathed.

Draco's eyebrows wrinkled together for a moment. "Well, I'm not the greatest at healing spells, but―"

"No!" Harry said suddenly. Then he explained, "The last time someone with no experience tried to heal me, I ended up with no bones in my arm."

"Suit yourself," Draco shrugged.

Later, after they'd found some sticks and used a bit of the conjured rope to bind them to Harry's leg― a method that Harry was forced to agree was "thoroughly muggle," as Draco had phrased― and Harry's wand was safely back in his pocket, the two set off towards the school. Harry had his arm draped over Draco's shoulders and they made slow, limping progress towards Hogwarts in near silence.

After they'd been walking for a while and the warm glow from castle windows was visible through the tree, Harry spoke.

"I'm still mad at you, you know," he grumbled.

"Really?" Draco asked blandly, "Even after I saved your life?" Harry waited until they'd navigated over a fallen tree to respond.

"You're a Death Eater," Harry said plainly.

"Not by choice," Draco explained, more calm this time. "I know what I used to say, how I used to brag… but the truth is, I'm scared." Harry raised an eyebrow at the admission. "My family is in too deep with the Dark Lord. It was either take the Mark or die."

"I would have died," Harry proclaimed fiercely. Draco pursed his lips.

"I'm not you," he said. The two lapsed back into an understood silence.

It was another hour before the two boys reached the front doors of the school. The clock in the entrance hall stated that it was dinner time, and the sound of voices coming from the Great Hall confirmed this. However, they had no way of knowing how long they'd been gone; Merlin had warned them that his spell wasn't entirely accurate, and that they might land within a few months of when they left. But by the temperature and the state of the trees in the forest, they'd reasoned that it was around late November.

Climbing the stairs was an arduous task with Harry's sprained ankle, and they did not encounter a single person in that time, but they finally made it to the top of the first flight and stood outside the Great Hall to catch their breath. The doors were closed, but they could clearly hear everything within. Soon, the voices of students hushed and Dumbledore began to speak.

"Now is the time to be strong," he said in his strong, yet kind, voice― a voice now filled with the weight of sadness. "We cannot allow fear to control us. We must join together, house to house, friend to friend, and release our ideas about how we are different, for we are stronger when we bond together."

Harry and Draco looked at each other. They'd been through a lot, the physical evidence of which lay in the dirt in their clothes and the various injuries garnered in the forest. But beyond the physical, there was something more; both boys could see it in each other's eyes, a change that they hadn't noticed until that point. Dumbledore continued.

"In the wake of this, we must remember those who are not here with us, and never give up hope that they will someday return safely."

His words rang in the silence. The students within the hall did not resume their conversation. Draco looked at the door before him, as if it could tell him the answers to the universe. Harry looked at Draco.

"Things are going to be different now, aren't they?" he asked, catching Draco's eyes again. Said boy shifted a bit, so that Harry's arm was more comfortable around his shoulders.

"Yeah," Draco replied, smiling ever so slightly, "Things are going to be different."

And with that, the two friends turned to face the Great Hall, each taking a deep breath. And they opened the large doors, together.

* * *

Fin.

* * *

And there we go. I know some people won't like the ending because it seems like yet another cliffhanger, but this is exactly how I'd planned to end it from the beginning. How it changes things is up to you to decide. No, there will not be an epilogue. I, for one, think it's perfect as is.

Thank you to everyone who has stuck with me through this entire story. It's been quite an adventure, and I really hope you've enjoyed it as much as I have. Don't forget to review and tell me your thoughts!

*Bows, as the curtains close and the lights fade to black*


End file.
